


White Like Regret, Bright Like Lies

by sleepingseeker



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, Family, Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One reflects in his last moments what it means to be honest with yourself. In the light of death, a memory surfaces and he confronts the truth about a choice he made out of jealousy, hurt pride and the protective bubble of innocence that children reside within that tells them that nothing truly bad can happen...until it does; bursting that bubble. </p><p>Rated T for mentions of blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Like Regret, Bright Like Lies

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: TMNT is not mine. They never were. But we grew up together and I know them like I know my family. They hold a dominant place in my obsessive wounded heart and always will. Thank you for reading and for taking these journeys with me.

He lay, sodden, soaked in his own fluids, shaken and empty. Still the soft, defiant attempt at a snarl emerged as he spread his bloodied lips back and up as the blade caught the mustard yellow lamplight, rippling in the drizzle. Dripping in pearls, lovely little droplets, of his own life's blood. They spattered him along with the warm rain. He never before noticed how the summer brought rain that was warm while every other time, it was cool or frigid. The only time you really needed the sharp sting of cold water against your flesh, you were given warmth. He'd never taken a moment to realize these simple truths and now it was too late for such revelations. His time was up.

His breath hitched, broken and cut short from the fractured shards of ribs ripping through to puncture his collapsed lungs. Like dew drops clinging to slender strands of grass, the misting rain laid upon his eye lashes. He blinked, a half motion at best and they remained, maybe he never fully blinked at all, too weak to manage such a simple, reflexive act. The blade caught the light and blinding him in its arc, he saw a memory take shape, vivid and painful.

White like regret. Bright like lies.

* * *

'We're coming, Leo, sheesh," Mikey groused. Behind him, Donnie pulled a rusted red wagon, Raph was sitting in the center, nearly spilling over the sides from the bulk of him, arms crossed, looking smug and triumphant. Puffing and sweating, Donnie dragged the burden through the path as Mikey kicked cans and other garbage out of the way; making the task a little easier on his brother. He was grinning except when he yelled to Leo. He scrunched up his freckled snout as he glanced his way, covering his forehead as he squinted into the setting sun behind where Leo stood.

He stood upon two overturned sofas, hands on his hips the way that he knew leaders held themselves when patiently putting up with insubordinate underlings. He was eight. Newly appointed leader. Indestructible. When they finally arrived below him, Raph climbed out of the wagon and frowned up to his older brother.

"Wha're we playin', today?"

"Get the flag?" Mikey suggested hopefully as Donnie wiped his brow. He had lost the arm wrestling tournament to decide who gets to pull who in the wagon. Raph usually always won and now that Leo was their leader, he didn't have to compete anymore. It made him feel a strange mix of pride and disappointment. He could beat Raph sometimes at arm wrestling, now it would pretty much always be that Raph was the winner.

Raph made a disgusted face, "Nah, we played that yesterday." Mikey, being the smallest, was also the quickest. He always won that game.

"What about Try 'n Find?" Donnie offered. Raph rolled his eyes. In that game one of them would choose an item that they'd have to find, whoever found it or something closest to it and brought it back to the 'home spot' won. Raph hated sorting through the garbage for things like a spork or a can of tuna that wasn't dented. Donnie seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to locating things in the mounds and mounds of refuse the humans didn't want.

Leo considered their offerings and gazed around. Raph huffed in impatience.

"Nothin' stupid, Leo."

"I don't make up stupid games."

"Yeah you do. All you ever think up is those stupid samurai games. Just to make Splinter happy. You're such a suck up."

Mikey, either very bold or very foolish, pushed Raph. "You're just mad cuz of him being our leader now."

"Don't push me, twerp!" Raph shoved him back and he tumbled down to his bottom. Leo jumped down from his lofty perch and got between them.

"What is your problem all the time? You're such a jerk."

Donnie stood to the side, eyes wide with worry.

"At least I'm not a stupid Lame-o-nardo, teacher's pet who thinks up stupid games that are as lame as he is. Why didn't you just stay home with Sensei? We all know that's where you'd rather be, anyway. Making tea and pretending you're better than us now just 'cuz you got that stupid title."

Leo's eyes flashed, feeling the stab of his brother's jealousy and the unfairness of it. He hadn't asked for this assignment. He knew it might change things between them, but in his young mind, the fears never really took full shape and design. It was a vague fear that had no identity, but remained, real and constant in the pit of his stomach, in the back of his mind. The sunlight had given way to the creeping darkness and the shadows between the stacks of debris and waste lengthened. And just like the corners of the piles and rusted vehicles, a shadow fell over Leonardo's heart. This was how it was going to be for now on, he realized in a sick moment of clarity.

With a dry swallow, he squared his shoulders. Well, Master Splinter had chosen him for a reason. He couldn't afford to fight with Raph like he'd been doing lately. He wasn't just their brother anymore. He was the leader now. He had to act more grown up and in charge, whether they liked it or not. He decided that the best way to handle this was to show up his brother in some physical challenge. He could prove he was better and put Raph in his place without having to fight him. He swallowed up his hurt and leveled what he hoped was a calm look at Raph.

"I know a game," he said in a quiet voice. Raphael blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then quickly covered his surprise at his brother's shift in manner and tone. He was used to ruffling Leo's feathers and goading him into a fight. "Since I'm leader, like Sensei says. You gotta follow me. All the way around, and then back to here, the long way."

Raphael's frown puckered across his brow, a flash of fear swept through his eyes. "Past the guard dogs?" He quickly snorted to cover the waver that entered his voice. The junk yard was their playground but sometimes the men that owned the place allowed the dogs freedom to roam the grounds. They never knew when they'd be set loose. "T-That sounds dumb."

"Maybe you're saying that 'cuz you can't do it. Or maybe you're  _afraid_ ," Leo challenged with more than a little taunt in his tone and Raph stiffened and then scowled. A low growl came out of him and Leo sneered.

Donnie listened with interest but also felt caught in wary anxiety over Leo's strange calm after Raph's outburst. Now Leo had shifted the power back to himself, leaving Raph no other choice but to play. His mind ran the route over in his mind.

"Okay! Follow the Leader, then!" Mikey piped up and jumped to his feet, the hurt of being pushed over vanishing with the chilled breeze that broke across their skin. Oblivious to the fact that this was something between his older brothers, not inclusive of him. The lingering hush held a strange electric vibe that made him uneasy. He rubbed the gooseflesh that rose on his arms. Suddenly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to play.

Leo held up one hand. "Not you guys. Just me and Raphie."

Raphael bristled at the hated nickname.

"What?" Donnie's concerned gaze bounced between his younger and older brother. His keen eyes picking up the tension in the way they were eyeing each other, in the rigid way they were standing.

"That's not fair! I want to play, too," Mikey demanded, despite his initial wave of discomfort.

"Maybe we should just go home," Don offered meekly. Both brothers snapped their angry gazes to him.

"No!" they answered in unison. Then Leo said, "Don, you stay here with Mikey and play the finding game until we get back. I'm gonna lead and see if Raphie can keep up." Leo poked Raph in the stomach and Raph growled at him, but then listened carefully as Leo laid out the plan. "We'll run through the outskirts of the garbage park and meet back here. If you can't keep up, you lose."

"Piece o' cake," Raph said with some bravado. "And what do I get when I win?"

Leonardo licked his lips and gazed around. "I'll . . . let you lead a training mission. But you can't tell Splinter. And only once."

 _"What!?"_  Donnie said incredulously. He looked from Raphael's shocked, then thoroughly pleased expression to Leonardo standing calmly in front of him. "That's not fair! If anyone else gets to lead, it should be me! I'm second oldest! Master Splinter says! That means if anything ever happens to you, I get to lead! I do, not Raph!"

"I'm the leader, Donnie," he snapped. Then with a very superior expression, he sniffed and added for clarity, "Master Splinter put me in charge of you guys and you have to do what I say for now on."

Donatello seethed where he stood, hands in fists. "This stinks! I hate this!"

Leo hissed him to be quiet as the distant sound of the guard dogs barking reached them. Low and deep and intimidating. The four small brothers tensed. A ripple of unease moved through the group. But the barking stopped abruptly and they listened for some minutes, standing still and straining for any indication that tonight the dogs would be free. The only sound was the cry of several starlings as they fluttered across the steel gray sky. Leonardo, not wanting to show any fear, straightened up. His hard gaze met Raph's narrow scowl.

"Well, think you can keep up?"

"Shit yeah."

"Raph," Mikey said, scandalized at the swear, then he smiled broadly, "Shit yeah," and giggled.

Again, Leo and Raph snapped in unison, "Don't swear!"

Mikey ducked his head and Donnie stood fuming. They ran off, Leo breaking out into a sprint. Mikey watched them go and then huffed as he sat where he stood in a heap. Donatello turned his head to face him.

"This isn't fair."

Mikey shrugged.

"Raph shouldn't lead. He's a trouble maker. And Leo . . . he's just so . . ." He shook his head unable to put to voice the irritation and aggravation he felt at his smug older brother. All of it was so unfair. He was never even asked if he wanted to be leader. It really was as Raph called it. Leo was just a stuck up little teacher's pet who could do no wrong and who thought he was better than them all now.

Mikey squinted up at his big brother. The brother who always knew so much more than anyone else. He was kind of surprised that his dad chose Leo over Don but chalked it up to Leo being more like a samurai-ninja-dude than the rest of them. Don was more like . . . he frowned as he tried to understand just how he imagined Don . . . the closest he could come up with was an image of a mad scientist he'd seen in an old black and white movie he watched with Master Splinter. Splinter had chuckled the entire time the scientist was on the screen, but he creeped Mikey out; eventually Mikey found himself curled up in Master Splinter's lap. Donatello started to pace and Mikey propped one chubby cheek on his hand and sighed; already thoroughly bored. His brother was right, this stunk. Then Donnie stopped and he stared at Mikey with a strange look on his face.

"I've got an idea."

Mikey straightened up. "Leo said to stay here."

It was Donatello's turn to shrug.

"Leo's the leader, Donnie."

"Don't remind me. C'mon. It's just a prank."

That got Mikey's interest. He climbed to his feet and hurried after Donatello who had already headed off in the opposite direction his brothers had run off to. Through the part of the junk yard where the cars sat rusted and unused, like forgotten American dreams, once lusted after then discarded when the initial blush of newness wore away and the aged surface was marred with dents, scratches and rust. No longer an object of heated desire and longing. They wove through the tires, bent bumpers and cracked windshields; their blurred reflections like dusty ghosts peering at them as they passed. The evening breeze came again and Mikey felt the uneasiness sweep through him the further they ran. He knew this part of the junk yard. It was the part they took pains to avoid. With good reason.

Donatello stopped, panting lightly, hands on his knees, beyond the disjointed piles of crates and pallets was a large enclosed pen. Mikey's eyes went from the four large black dogs pacing restlessly within the pen to his brother.

"What are you thinkin', Donnie?"

He had a look on his face that Mikey didn't like. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made Mikey swallow. He strode forward and the dogs immediately started to bark. Rumbling booming explosions of sound that hit them like a physical force. The beasts inside the cage were huge. Their dripping maws snapped and clapped as they barked, dripping foam and long white strands of spit. Mikey lunged forward and grabbed his arm, pulling on it; eyes huge with terror.

Donnie looked over his shoulder with a reassuring smile, "I'm just gonna scare Leo a little when he comes around."

Mikey could scarcely speak, "What do you mean?"

"To show him he's not so great. You know, to scare him a little. Ever since Master Splinter put him in charge, he's been acting like he's better than us and I'm sick of it. Like putting Raph in charge of a training run, that shouldn't be up to him. He just thinks he's better than us."

The words were clotting on his suddenly dry tongue, but Mikey whispered, "Donnie, I don't think this is a good idea."

"I'm only gonna open the gate a little as he runs by, just enough to let the dog snap at his heel. See how the path goes? It gets really close to the gate where the dogs are and he can't go around it, remember? We ran this way before."

Mikey didn't look convinced. He didn't want to remember the day of the frightening, panicked race past the growling, snarling monstrous dogs. Just thinking about it made his knees weak and like he had to use the bathroom.

"I'll use my bo to hold the gate open at just the right angle. The dogs won't be able to get out, trust me. The angle is all wrong. The size of those mastiffs would never be able to squeeze through the opening I'm going to make."

Mikey made a desperate sound as Donnie pulled free and climbed to the top of the pen, pulling out his bo and wedging it into the gate, testing it a little. He was right, if he applied the right pressure at the right angle, the chain that was padlocked between the gate and the fence would give him just enough room to let one of the dogs' heads to pop through and nothing more. Delicious anticipation shot through him and a sense of power. This was going to be great! He jabbed the end of his bo through the holes of the chain linked fence and gate and braced himself as the distant sound of Leo's laughter reached him. The dogs were oddly still and tense, watching him without a sound with glittering eyes.

Mikey clambered backwards up a heap of trash. He trusted Donnie. He really did. But this could not be a good idea. The sound of Leo's laughter got louder. The dogs started to growl and pace again. Donnie nodded to Mikey, biting his bottom lip. He gave his knees a bounce and then began to shift his weight back to pry open the gate.

It was already too late when Mikey's eyes fell upon the shank of the padlock. His stomach dropped. It was open. The lock was open. Why didn't they take a second to double check that that padlock was actually latched?! It was open.

_No! Don't Donnie! It's OPEN!_

His mind was screaming it, but his mouth hung open, wordless, soundless in shock and denial of reality, as Leo made the turn, twisting his body to squeeze between the tall moldy stacks of pallets. He was taunting Raph who remained out of sight. Mikey would never forget his face, locked in a triumphant, joyful smile as he ran into the space just as the dogs burst free from the pen and fell on him. The world was filled with teeth and jaws; screams and yelps of panic; shrieking howls of pain.

Donatello was on his shell, knocked back when the force of the first two dogs had taken advantage of the small opening and had barreled through, the force of it knocking the unhooked padlock free. He sat up, dazed and in shock as Mikey dove on top of one of the dogs, bashing it in its head with one of his chucks. The dog bucked and dropped when Mikey slammed it again, hearing the sound of its skull fracturing over the roaring sound of his heart in his ears, his own scream adding to the symphony of the fray.

Out of breath, Raphael scrambled into the melee, his face a mask of complete horror as he quickly saw what was happening. A nightmare come true. He was never one to harm any animal and found animal cruelty something that should be punishable by death. But in that moment, his sai flashed in his fists without hesitation and he tore through fur and flesh while screaming in raging, frantic anguish for Leonardo. Donatello found himself unable to move, watching the savage show play out below him in livid detail.

The repeating phrase he'd said earlier echoed over and over in his mind,  _If anything ever happens to you, I get to lead!_ The knots of guilt and shame twisted larger and tighter with each passing second. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He hadn't. He hadn't. But it seemed as though the terrifying idea had cemented itself in his subconscious that maybe he  _had_.

They carried Leonardo, shuddering in agony from the ragged multiple bite marks and gouges, moaning and whimpering to the wagon. Donatello followed quickly but numbly along behind. His mind remained in a blank state of shock. His darting eyes continued to bounce around before falling to the ground between his feet. A long trail of blood marked his path, he'd been walking in it. His brother's blood. The incredible amounts of blood, making the ground like mud.

Dimly he heard Raphael sobbing. Raph never cried. But he was openly making a strangled sound between continually shouting to Leo that he'd be alright.

His youngest brother was eerily silent. His breath coming in broken strained puffs as if he kept holding his breath until he couldn't any longer and it broke loose before he swallowed it back only to repeat the cycle every few seconds. His face was a gray shade of green; his eyes enormous and haunted. He held Leo's bruised and punctured legs while Raph had him under and around his dangling arms.

Leo's fingers trailed along the ground, dripping long strings of thick crimson. Leo's blood. It was everywhere, it covered everything and it kept flowing out of his brother, so much he thought it would cover the entire world with it; painting everything crimson, the color of his guilt. He could smell it; coppery and bright. He was choking on it and thought with revulsion that he'd somehow gotten his brother's blood into his mouth. They folded his trembling body into the wagon and Raphael took the handle and they hurried towards home, as fast as they dared, with Leo whimpering with every bump and jolt along the way.

At home, even after Splinter patched Leo's bite wounds and the blood was washed from hands and legs and feet and stomachs, the taste of his brother's blood, thick and cloying would not leave Donatello's mouth. And the familiar phrase continued to beat a path through his brain:  _If anything ever happens to you, I get to lead!_ He hadn't meant it. He only wanted to scare Leo. To teach him a lesson in humility. He was sure the dogs could not get free. He didn't understand what happened. Couldn't wrap his keen mind around what had gone wrong. Just as he didn't realize that Mikey wasn't talking to Splinter, sitting nearly catatonic and limp and he couldn't say anything other than, _'There were dogs in the junk yard. They got loose. They got loose'_ , until the words were falling from his numb lips and the damage was done. Lies like fine strands of spider webbing criss-crossed over their hearts and minds. And the guilt solidified into something that coated his bones, lacquering them against the long tormented years ahead.

_If anything ever happens to you, I get to lead!_

Mikey said nothing to contradict his story. Donatello never brought it up again. But he dreamt of it. Of the heavy, sweet anticipation turning instantly to rigid dread; the dogs with their glittering black eyes and their teeth, those jagged fangs, gleaming in the dark, greasy and tinged with ribbons of red; of the terror that hit him like a force of nature as they burst free and fell on his brother; so quick; so devastating; savaging his flesh, tossing him like a rag doll; and the blood painting the sky and the ground and the dogs red, so red nearly black; garnet; thick; the blood that he could still taste; copper and salt. Choking him until he woke in a cold sweat, gripping his blankets and murmuring his feeble apologies out to the darkness of his room.

But never uttered to his brother.

* * *

The taste of his brother's blood remained on his tongue as he gave himself up to certain oblivion; regretting that he'd never had the chance to tell Leo it was his fault that he'd been attacked by the dogs. Never had a chance to tell him how very sorry he was for doing that to him. All the pain that Leo had gone through, not just the agony of the moment and the fright, but the weeks of recovery, the fear that he'd nearly lost the use of his left hand. The way that his pupils would shrink when they'd hear the dogs bellowing in the darkness on their nightly patrols. How he never forgot that this had all been his doing and had been too much of a coward to face the truth of his culpability and what it may do to their relationship.

A brittle one that never remained what it had been before, despite the deceit that was to shield it from destruction. Before the night at the junk yard. Before Leo had been assigned dominance over Donatello. When they had just been brothers. Brothers who would laugh and spar, share books and trade thoughts on such lofty topics as which matchbox car would win the race on their homemade tracks or if they'd ever find somewhere better to live and where they'd like to if they could go wherever they wanted.

Donnie had wanted to see the mountains. Majestic and surreal in the books and on television. He wanted to stand in the shadow of something so immense, imposing and magisterial. Had he only known that he'd already stood in such a place and had loathed his resulting diminishment.

_If anything ever happens to you, I get to lead!_

He pinched his eyes in shame. But the flashing blade that was about to end his misery never met his battered flesh and something like disappointment weighed on him as he cracked his eyes open. The sweet sound of his brothers' rough voices met him and he knew he was saved. They found him. Delivered him from execution at the hands of a masked foe, but unable to deliver him from his due. He had seconds, maybe a minute or two.

"Donnie. Leo, oh god! Leo, here! He's here." Then back again, close, so that Donatello could feel his brother's breath on his face. "You're going to be okay, Donnie."

He smiled, or thought he did. The lies we tell ourselves and each other. Lies bright and hopeful. Lies brutal and cruel. Lies to defend ourselves. Lies to defy judgment and truth.

_If anything ever happens to you, I get to lead!_

No more lies. He saw it again. In the light of truth. He faced it. The padlock. He saw the shank was open. He never thought, though. He never thought they'd tear into Leonardo like that. They'd been so quiet, watching him, like shinigami in dog form, awaiting their chance, their direction from him. No more lies. He opened his mouth and started to say something. Raphael leaned in and Donatello felt the hot tears sprinkling his face.

"The dogs . . . the lock . . . was open."

Raphael frowned. Rushing footsteps of Mikey and Leonardo, pounded along the ground. "You're okay, Donnie. We're gonna get you home."

If he could just hold on, but he knew it was futile. "T-The dogs . . . I knew."

Leonardo was next to him, kneeling in the spreading pool issuing from the fatal wounds at his neck, arms and thigh. Mikey made a choked gasp. Raphael exchanged a look with Leo.

"He's sayin' somethin' about dogs, Leo. I don't think he knows where he's at," Raph said, voice thick and hoarse with grief.

Donatello's fingers found Leonardo's hand and he groped weakly. Leo grabbed his hand and held it gently, but firmly. His body started to shake and go cold. He had to hold on to make this right. His eyes rolled but then focused on Leo's bright pools shining down on him. The light tracing of the old scars from the bite he took on the side of his face seemed to stand out in garish clarity.

"L-eo . . . dogs . . . the lock I'm so . . . so-rry."

It wasn't enough, not by far, but it the best he could do as the world faded and he slipped beyond the veil; the sight of Leonardo's loving, knowing eyes looking down on him. Those eyes that said so much and only what was needed. Forgiveness. And Donatello knew in his last moments, why their father had chosen so very wisely.


End file.
